


Evening View

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Figure Skater Bitty, First Meeting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Injury, SMH Jack, bad dad jokes, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8773660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They run past Bitty's dorm at five-oh-five every evening.  Bitty's determined not to look, but when he does, nothing is the same again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowLookingGlass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/gifts).



> For rainbow-looking-glass who took my [ weird experince with the hockey team at the local Uni here](http://omgittybits.tumblr.com/post/154105075025/not-omg-cp-but-relevant-so-this-evening-i-decide), and helped me turn it in to a fic.

It took Eric a minute to realise the rhythmic pounding wasn’t actually part of the song, but someone thumping on the flimsy wood of his dorm door. He was startled by the fact that anyone would be knocking because it was almost five in the afternoon so his teammates were either at the gym, at the rink, or cramming in all the studying they lost during the week for practise.

And honestly, it sounded pretty frantic.

Bitty had heard far too many stories about assault victims not to immediately jump up, thinking maybe someone needed an escape. He slammed his laptop shut, and bolted for the door, wrenching it open.

He did not expect a tall woman with long brown hair, and wide eyes saying, “Oh my god thank god you’re here,” and elbowing her way inside.

“Uh,” Bitty said, staring. “Come on in?”

As he shut the door, she turned and halted her trip toward his window. “Shit. Fuck. Man I’m sorry I just…I used to live here and they moved me and yeah…”

That didn’t exactly make sense, so Bitty stayed quiet to let her finish.

“I tried the dude downstairs but he’s literally never home at five and I didn’t want to miss it. And like…there’s nothing around here besides dorms so loitering in front of the building would probably seem way creepy.”

“Okay yeah you’re still not making a lot of sense, honey,” Bitty said.

She blinked at him. “My name’s Charlotte and I…” She stopped. Her eyes flickered over Bitty’s Beyonce poster, and his skating trophies, and the larger photo he had from last year’s regionals. He felt his heart speed up, and she looked at him. “One in four, right?”

Bitty sighed. It’s not like he didn’t know he was obvious. Four years of having people shove him in lockers and broom cupboards proved that. But he didn’t love being stereotyped. And he didn’t love being out to a total stranger. Though, he realised, she was a total stranger and it’s not like news was gonna get back to his momma or Coach without his permission from this.

“Yeah,” he said after a second.

At that, Charlotte jumped forward, seizing his wrist as she used her other hand to check her phone. “Perfect. Season just started, and if this is anything like last year…” She trailed off as she let him go to wrench up the screenless window. “Trust me, I think you’ll appreciate the view.”

Bitty decided to just let the scene unfold instead of making her clarify what the hell was going on. And five minutes later, he was more than grateful for the surprise.

From around the corner, suddenly came a flash of red and white. Tall, broad, fit men in shorts obscenely short, a few wearing black leggings underneath, jogging. Perfectly sculpted arms flexed as their fists clenched, and they ran.

Oh. They ran.

Bitty’s eyes raked over them all before settling on the leader—not the tallest, but close. A grey toque pulled over black hair which was peeking out over his forehead, and the bluest eyes Bitty had ever seen. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his mouth set in a determined frown. Bitty felt his mouth go dry as they went past, and he looked over at Charlotte who let out a small, happy sigh.

“Okay I know it’s fucked,” she said as she sat back. “But like…they’re so hot, holy shit.”

Bitty glanced as the last of the group went round the building. “What just happened?”

Charlotte laughed, waving her hand at him. “Just the most glorious display of hockey ass you’ll ever see outside the NHL.”

Bitty’s eyes widened. “Wait. That was the Samwell team?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. You know them?”

“Kind of?” Bitty said, because he kind of did. They were the ones who periodically messed up the ice right before his practise—taking up an extra half hour while the skaters waited for someone to come by certified to operate the Zamboni. He was not their biggest fan.

Though he might be softening a little. It was hard not to, at the sight of well formed thighs and ass.

“We skate before them most of the week. And sometimes a few of them come in for early practise.” Bitty closed his window and sat back, looking at her with a raised brow. “They do that every afternoon?”

Charlotte grinned. “Like clockwork. They won’t all last. It’s still early in the year. By the end of last year the only few keeping it up was Ransom, Holster, and Jack. Sometimes Shitty, but he’s usually too stoned by five.”

Bitty coughed. “Uh. Did you say…Shitty?”

“Hockey nicknames. I met them a few times. They live in some shit-ass frat house and throw Kegsters a few times a year. Pretty much everyone is invited and there’s decent music. Not sure I’ve ever seen any of the figure skaters though.”

“Yeah I think we’re supposed to hate and shun them on principal,” Bitty said with a shrug.

Charlotte stood up and sighed. “Well, thanks for that. I really missed my afternoon routine.”

Bitty laughed and shook his head. “No worries. If you ever wanna drop by again, feel free.”

Charlotte winked. “I’ll take you up on that. Thanks.”

Then she was gone, and Bitty was left sat on his bed wondering if it had happened at all.

*** 

The next day he was reminded that it had. And he told himself he was not standing at his window at five pm watching for red and white hockey shirts, and pert asses in shorts. He was not. He was just trying to…take a break from homework—suck up what little of the evening sunset he could before he spent most of the winter surrounded by a clouded sky.

They came though, like Charlotte promised. Right at five oh eight pm. The dark-haired one—Jack—was in the lead again. His face still determined, even as it looked like a few of the others were starting to lag and chirp each other.

Bitty felt a little bad he was oogling, but he figured just watching wasn’t hurting anyone. Right?

He leant his head slightly out the window, and suddenly, blue eyes stared up at him. They did a double take, and Bitty panicked, throwing himself on the ground.

“Shit,” he breathed, and when he dared stand up again, he peered out but they were gone. His face was bright red, and he told himself he definitely wasn’t going to be doing that again.

Nope.

Not again.

*** 

He managed to stick to his decision, too. At least for the rest of the week. In fact, he wasn’t even really thinking about it when he was doing his stretches near the open window. It was one of the warmest days they’d be getting for a while, and he had the window propped open, his leg up against the wall in a split, and he was pushing his torso toward his knee.

They had a meet coming up, and he wanted to be ready. He had Bey blaring in his headphones, and he was just getting into his groove when suddenly there was a commotion below.

Bitty’s eyes cut to the street, and he saw bystanders crowded round someone who had fallen. Bitty’s eyes narrowed, and saw a knee with dripping blood, and a familiar head of black hair. Bitty’s eyes first glanced at the clock and saw it was only four. The he realised the guy was hurt, and rushed out the door, and took the stairs, flying out into the street.

“Oh lordy,” Bitty gasped, going to his knees beside the fallen hockey player.

“Crisse,” the man said. “I’m fine, just a scraped knee.”

Bitty was taken aback by the lilt of his accent, and by the rough edge to his voice. “You’re bleedin’ all over,” Bitty said. “Come on, I have a full first aid kit. I can’t get you patched up before you head back out.”

The guy stared at him, but eventually pushed away helping hands and rose. Bitty thought for a minute the guy was going to refuse, but then he gave a sharp nod, and let Bitty lead the way inside.

He felt bad, being on the fourth floor and having to climb all those stairs, but the guy didn’t voice a single complaint as he followed Bitty to his dorm, and through the door which Bitty had left sat open.

“Um. You can sit on the bed,” he muttered as he began to rummage through his things. He’d had enough scrapes and falls in skating that he kept a well-stocked kit, and he found it, eventually, under a stack of costumes. “Uh…I’m Eric by the way. Or Bitty, whatever. Everyone calls me Bitty.”

“Can’t see why,” the guy chirped dryly, but there was a tiny twitch of a smile on his lips as he extended his injured knee out toward Bitty.

Rolling his eyes, Bitty pulled out a few of the wet wipes. “You chirpin’ me while I’m fixin’ to mend your leg?” Bitty asked, putting a hand to his chest.

The guy laughed. “Maybe. I’m Jack Zimmermann.” There was a hesitation in his voice, like maybe he was nervous or afraid, but when Bitty did nothing more than smile, he relaxed.

“Hockey, right?” Bitty asked. “I really shouldn’t be helping any of y’all. Since we’re mortal enemies.”

Jack blinked, and when Bitty pointed to his skating portrait, Jack laughed even harder. “Figure skater. I should have known.”

“Recognised me?” Bitty asked as he swiped on the cut, then blew gently over the skin when Jack winced.

“Euh. The…stretches. I saw you. Stretching in the window.”

Bitty’s face bloomed red. “Oh. Uh. Right I um. It…was nice out. And I have a meet.”

“I know. We had to move our practise around,” Jack said, but he didn’t sound upset about it. He clenched his teeth when Bitty began to clean the wound in earnest, then let out a slow breath when Bitty soothed it with some of the anti-biotic cream. “You do this a lot?”

“Patch up wounds?” Bitty asked, and giggled. “Only my own, Mr Zimmermann. I usually don’t drag giant hockey players up to my dorm room.” He froze then, and his eyes went wide with horror. “I didn’t…I don’t mean like…I’m not…”

“It’s okay,” Jack said softly, and laid his hand on Bitty’s wrist for a brief second. “I appreciate it. Really. This wouldn’t have felt nice to run back to the Haus on.”

Bitty swallowed. “Oh well. You’re welcome, then. And for bein’ so polite, I guess I can wish you good luck on your next game. Just don’t tell any of my team I did.”

Jack laughed again, his blue eyes bright. “Deal. And…you too.” Bitty was done, and Jack stood up, flexing his knee and wincing.

“Um. Do you…I mean I could walk you home, if you feel like you can’t make it.”

Jack chuckled one more and shook his head. “I think I’ll be alright.”

Bitty’s head began to spin, and he felt suddenly frantic, like he hadn’t done enough, like he wasn’t being hospitable. He rushed to his desk, and pushed books aside for a Tupperware box full of cookies he’d baked earlier that week when the sorority had let him come in and borrow their under used kitchen.

“Here,” he said, shoving the box at Jack. “For you and the others. It’ll help you heal faster, trust me.”

Jack’s cheeks bloomed pink. “Thanks,” he said.

Bitty shrugged. “Yeah. I’d have baked a pie if I had somethin’ more than this lil room here and a camp stove but…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Take care. Eyes up, even off the ice, yeah?”

Jack let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, Bitty. I’ll remember that. And maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” His eyes cut to the window, and Bitty knew then he was busted, but for some reason, he didn’t care.

He did shake his head, though. “I’ll be at a meet.”

“Oh. Right. Maybe…another time, then,” Jack said. And Bitty knew he was not imagining Jack’s hesitation as he headed for the door.

But soon enough he was gone, and Bitty was alone with the echoes of Jack’s firm muscle under his fingers.

*** 

Bitty was off his game. He flubbed his first jump, and had lost his timing. His head was definitely elsewhere. His head was definitely with ice-blue eyes, and a firm, round hockey butt, and the softest laugh which made Bitty go hot all over.

Lord. He was so screwed.

By the time he skated off the ice, he felt frustrated. His scores would be low, and even though it was early, he couldn’t afford to be distracted like this. But he couldn’t help it. Jack had flirted with him…or at least hadn’t been disgusted by the idea that Eric was definitely, openly, interested.

And he’d taken the cookies. And had asked if Bitty would see him tomorrow.

Which…Bitty wasn’t going to lie. Sat on a bench watching the time tick by…five oh five…five oh eight…five ten… Jack was definitely done with his run by then, and had wanted Bitty to see him.

“You care to tell me why half of SMH is here watching you?” Rick said in Bitty’s ear the moment he sat.

Bitty’s eyes flew wide. “W-what?”

Rick snorted, then nodded his head toward the seats where Bitty’s eyes settled on the runners. 

Oh.

Oh goodness gracious.

“They were cheering you on, and Zimmermann looked like he was gonna vomit when you hit the ice on your triple flip.”

Bitty bit his lip. How had he not seen him? He hadn’t noticed them at all. “Uh.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and paused until he got his scores. Not his best, that was for sure, but not his worst either. 

“Well?” Rick demanded.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Bless your heart, but I’m not sure this is any of your business. However, if you _must_ know…”

“I must,” Rick said, chirping Bitty’s accent.

Bitty smacked him. “Jack Zimmermann had an injury outside my dorm building and I helped patch him up.”

“Oh my _god_ is that a euphemism?”

Bitty smacked him again. “Hush your mouth, I mean it very literally. He tore his knee open on the pavement.”

“Ouch.”

Bitty nodded. “So I gave him a bandage and some cookies. And who knows, maybe they’re just tryin’a be nice and support another Samwell team.”

“Yeah, because that’s happened at all in the history of ever,” Rick said, but he was grinning. “Looks like he’s coming over, too. Git it, Bits.”

Suddenly Rick was gone, and Jack was there, sliding on the bench next to him.

“So euh…I’ve never really watched…skating,” he said slowly, haltingly, his cheeks rosy. “Were those scores…”

Bitty flushed and shook his head. “Not my best.”

Jack gave him a chirpy smile, nudging him. “Oh yeah.”

Bitty wrinkled his nose, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. “Yeah,” he said back. “I was distracted.”

“I guess I did get to serve my revenge ice cold.”

Bitty covered his face. “Oh lord that’s…that was bad, Jack. Truly.”

Jack laughed. “But you’re laughing.”

Bitty looked up, shaking his head. “No. I’m not. That was…just…”

“How about I make up for it?” Jack asked, his smile softening. “Coffee? At Annie’s? You free after this?”

Bitty looked at the hockey team sneaking out, smirking, and then over at Rick who was giving him a thumb’s up, and he knew he was done for. “Yeah. Okay. Buy me a pumpkin spice latte and I’ll forgive the bad joke.”

“And the distraction?” Jack pressed, leaning into Bitty so their shoulders brushed.

Bitty blushed so hot he thought he might combust, but he was pushing forward, grabbing on with both hands. “I don’t know, Mr Zimmermann. That was a pretty bad offense. It might take dinner to make up for that.”

Jack smiled and very carefully reached for Bitty’s hand…and Bitty most definitely reached back, their fingers tangled together as easy as anything Bitty had ever done. “I think I can do that,” Jack said. How does tomorrow sound for you?”

Bitty smiled. “After five. I don’t want to miss my evening view.”

Jack chuckled and pulled Bitty close. “Deal. I’ll pick you up after.”

“You remember where I live?” Bitty chirped.

Jack winked. “Oh yes. That’s not something I’ll soon forget.”


End file.
